The Case of the Missing Memories
by Fantasticmsfox
Summary: I don't own anything with the BBC Sherlock show just doing this for fun. This is only my second time writing anything like this so please feel free to give me feed back. Sherlock and John are home one night and hear a knock on the door just to find an unconscious woman at their door. Like I said please feel free to tell me what you think. Rated M for later chapters


A young woman stumbled towards the door of 221B Baker street. Her thin, pale body rested against the door, the cold wood pressed against her face. It soothed her bruised eye and lip. Her emerald eyes fluttered, her head felt so fuzzy and her body weak. She raised her arm to knock but it just fell against the door softly. It crept up slowly towards the metal knocker and she grabbed onto it as if it was the only thing keeping her standing.

The metal slammed into door. The knock wasn't that loud though. She knew it was late but her head and body felt weak and she knew she wouldn't stay upright for very much longer. She tried to breathe in but she felt as if her chest wouldn't rise further than it already did. With all the strength she could muster she knocked on the door twice than her arm fell down to her side.

"Was that the door?" John Watson's head perked up. He looked at the clock on the kitchen wall in front of him. It was almost 3 am who could that be? He turned from pouring his tea to look at Sherlock Holmes sitting in his chair reading a book.

Sherlock didn't even look up. He was probably lost in his mind palace trying to take his mind off the smoking. John started to walk towards the doors that lead to the stairs when his friend's head popped up.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock questioned.

"Someone knocked Sherlock so I am going to answer it," John replied.

"Let Mrs. Hudson do it, she is our housekeeper anyway-"

"Sherlock it's 3 am and she's not our housekeeper." John stepped down the staircase and reached the door. John started pulling the door open just to find a woman slumped in his doorway. "Sherlock!" John yelled as he pulled her to her feet.

"Sherlock! Come here!" John yelled again. Her head fell backwards as John scooped her up. "Are you alright?" He questioned with no answer. Her chest was rising with every shallow breath she took. He kicked the door shut and started up the stairs. John had to turn sideways just to get himself and the woman through the door.

"Who is that?" Sherlock questioned as John laid her softly on the couch.

John checked her pulse and opened her eyes. She was either high or had been drugged. John pushed her fiery red locks out of her face. His heart sunk when he looked at the purple and blue eye as well as the bruising around her lip. He didn't even know what could have been hiding on the rest of her body.

"Why didn't you come?" Watson said standing up and starring at Sherlock. "I called you?"

"You did?" Sherlock said. "Hmmm…didn't hear you," He said looking back at his book. "So who is she?"

"I don't know," John walked over to grab his medical bag off his desk. "She collapsed in our doorway. She's either high or has been drugged, but she's out and the dosage must have been high for someone her size."

Sherlock's icy blue eyes scanned the woman's body laying on the couch. Her deep purple sweatshirt was clearly three sizes too big for her. The gray cotton pants hung loosely on her as well but what Sherlock focused on was the bottom of the pants. They were caked with mud that was probably still wet. She must have been walking around for a while to accumulate so much mud. He also noticed her heavy, tan male work boots she was wearing so there was probably a good chance they weren't her shoes. The odd thing was her fiery hair seemed well taken care of and styled. She had make up on as well which was now streaking down her face. Why was someone wearing those clothes when she seemed to keep herself looking nice. Sherlock's mind raced with so many deductions about this woman who hadn't said a word.

"She's a client," Sherlock finally spoke.

"How do you know she's not another junkie just high?" John questioned.

"Do you think someone who looks like she does could be a junkie?" Sherlock stood up and walked beside his friend. They both looked down at this pale woman.

John rolled her onto her side to see if that might help her breathing. Also if she was going to throw up she wouldn't choke. "I don't know, you could be wrong about this one."

"I seriously doubt that John, but we can ask her when she wakes which doesn't seem like she will be awake any time soon," Sherlock turned and his head shot up looking at nothing. He was in his mind palace again.

Sherlock did this often and John knew he just had to wait until her snapped out of it. John got on his knees as he started dabbing anti bacteria ointment over her open wound bellow her lip. He cleaned up the blood around it and his heart sank more, looking at her eye he knew it took a lot of force to do that to someone.

Sherlock ran to open John's computer, "Mine's in my bedroom but I have to check something," He opened it quickly as he sank into the chair.

John closed his bag and set it next to his computer as he stood behind Sherlock.

"I remember seeing this girl on the news like twenty-one years ago-"

"How could you remember something like that…" John started to ask but trailed off but he already knew the answer.

Sherlock pulled up the missing person's database and scanned though the photos. There were so many but he was looking for a specific one. He then looked up by the year and some more pictures of people popped up. There were pictures of kids when they were taken and a sketch of what they could possibly look like today. Then he found it.

"Audrey Marilyn Fremont," He whisper as he enlarged the photo.

John could hardly be wowed by anything Sherlock did anymore because he knew to expect the unexpected with him. However this was completely unbelievable.

"That's her," Sherlock spoke aloud. He turned to look at John, "It has to be. I mean the features are the same….She's just bigger now."

"She was taken when she was six so she has to be what 27 now?" John turned to look at her.

"Correct," Sherlock shut John's computer and rose to his feet. "Well cased solved in record timing I believe. I'm off to bed," He walked down the hallway and into his room.

"Well night…" John said softly as he looked at this poor woman asleep on the couch. He pulled his desk chair over and sat down. Looked like he was sleeping here tonight he had to stay and make sure she would be alright. He watched her for a while her chest seemed to be rising easier which was better than before. Before he knew it his eyes drifted downward and he was fast asleep.


End file.
